


Timmy T, Pull Up Your Pants

by LivefromG25



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Frustrated!Timmy, M/M, Masturbation, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Disclaimer: None of this is real. This is all projection. I don't know TCs kinks, all mistakes are my own.





	Timmy T, Pull Up Your Pants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForYou_InSilence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForYou_InSilence/gifts).



> Disclaimer: None of this is real. This is all projection. I don't know TCs kinks, all mistakes are my own.

I stand up, stretching my arms above my head, yawning softly. Feigning tiredness. I am done being ignored.

 

I glance over to the other sofa where Luca is hunched over his phone, Armie practically on his knee. They've been scrolling through pictures for what feels like hours now, while the movie we were watching stays on pause. Because, y'know, that's fun for _me_. I don't even remember what Luca was looking for now. I doubt he does either.

 

“Hey, guys, I am going to head back, ok?”...

 

Armie's head shoots up to look at me. I try not to roll my eyes. Oh, so now I have his attention?

He looks concerned though which placates me a little. Then I get annoyed at myself for feeling placated.

 

“Erm, oh, sure, you ok?”. He makes a move like he is about to get up as I walk towards him but I reach out, put my hand on his shoulder and nudge him back into his seat.

 

“I'm good, seriously, you guys stay. I am just tired and I kinda wanna run over tomorrow's scenes a little. Honestly, no worries”, I smile at Armie who nods in return. “See you in the morning, Luca, don't keep him up too late, we are running low on makeup as it is trying to get him looking as fresh as me”.

 

Luca laughs as I side step around the sofa, away from Armie's swatting hand. I leave them to it, making my own way out of the house.

 

_**I can feel his eyes on me as I leave.** _

 

* * *

 

Closing the door of the apartment, I lean back against it, letting out a sigh. I throw my key on the side table and peel myself away. What to do now?

 

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen, pour myself a drink of water from the sink. It dawns on me that the only reason I left Luca's place was because I am being childish, so used to getting Armie's attention most of the day that I appear to have gone into some sort of pathetic withdrawal the minute I have to share him with anybody.

 

God, Timmy, you're a fucking joke.

 

Walking into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind me, I debate whether to read lines for tomorrow or watch tv or maybe get some guitar practice in. Anything to take my mind off the fact that I am jealous as fuck of Luca right now and simultaneously hating myself for it.

 

When did this even happen, I wonder? I don't remember a moment when I started thinking of Armie as anything more than just, well, _Armie_. I sit on the edge of the bed, switching on the bedside light and stare down at the floor. I don't know how long I sit there zoned out before I realise I am rubbing my right arm gently, lost in a memory of how earlier it had felt like it was on fire because he had brushed against me.

 

I catch myself. I am 20 years of age, for fuck sake. “My arm felt on fire”? Who am I? A teenage girl? Isn't this hormonal nonsense supposed to be over by now?

 

I flop backwards on the bed with a groan, arms above my head. As the mattress starts to settle, I realise – to my own embarrassment and, again, annoyance – that I am semi hard. Am I really at a point in my life where the remembrance of someone inadvertently touching my arm is enough to get me off?

 

This is ridiculous.

 

I run my fingers through my hair and pause at the unexpected feel of wool beneath my head. Lifting up slightly I pull a wine coloured sweater from underneath where I was laying. I instantly recognise it as the one Armie had thrown around his shoulders when he arrived here this evening, I didn't even realise he'd taken it off.

 

Giggling softly at the ironic parallels of my life right now, I lie back down and drop the sweater over my face, blocking out the light. Inhaling deeply, I am almost dizzy on the scent of his aftershave, the sweeter smell of shower gel and the musky essence of... _him._

 

Even before I ghost my hands down my body and into the grey sweatpants I have on, I know I am rock hard. I moan in relief as I wrap my hand around myself. For a split second I consider what I am doing here, mirroring Elio. Knowing I have to film a similar scene almost makes me pull my hand away. I _can't_ have this image in my head when the time comes.

 

And yet...

 

Isn't this the whole point? Isn't that why Luca brought me out here, to _be_ Elio? To understand Elio? To bring life to Elio? Is there a better way to bring authenticity to his desire for Oliver than by physically desiring _Oliver_...?

 

I inhale again and in doing so, realise I really don't give a fuck. I _need_ this. I have been semi-hard all day long and the realization that the closest I am going to get to Armie literally helping me out here is this sweater? I'll take it.

 

Hooking my foot into the edge of the bed I push myself further back onto the mattress, letting the drag take my trousers with it. I glance down at my cock, hard and insistent. I smile softly - Yeah, 'cause I could have ignored that for long – and take hold once more, my eyes fluttering closed.

 

The feel of the sweater draped across my neck is reminiscent of Armie's hands. He has a tendency to hold my head when we kiss. I know he is trying to control Elio – my characterizations of his needy insistence and oral fixation – but I can't tell him how much it turns me on too. I am a tall guy, it takes a lot for me to feel dominated. The sensation, knowing someone could overpower you, is a kink I didn't even know I had. It makes me a bit breathless sometimes. I am pretty certain I would let him do anything to me, if he asked. Fuck it, he wouldn't even have to ask.

 

I bite softly into the fabric of the sweater at the thought, stifling a moan, as I work my hand faster. My other hand, seemingly taking on a life of it's own, brings the rest of the sweater around my head, wrapping it gently around my neck. I pull softly, gasping at the sensation of restraint and in my minds eye picture Armie, all 6ft5 of him, pinning me down to this bed, his hand wrapped around my throat. I am surrounded by the scent of him, my mouth is full of the taste of him. It's a heady combination.

 

The hand on my cock becomes his too and a renewed surge of desire hits me. I work myself faster and harder, increasing the intensity of the force around my neck. My whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat and I am making noises that I don't even recognise as myself. I have never been this hard, this needy or this desperate in my life. Still biting down on the damp wool in my mouth, I throw my head back, my hand alternating between hard punishing strokes and palming at the head. I know I am close, my entire body is trip wire.

 

The peak rushes towards me; it has the potential to ruin me. I am past the point of no return, chanting Armie's name around the gag in my mouth. Like a prayer; pleading with him to let me find release when I become aware of only two things-

 

The sound of the bedroom door opening.

 

_**The feel of his eyes on me as I come.** _

 

 


End file.
